


Supernatural Kink List

by MsImpala67



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Smut, each chapter will have warnings in the notes, kink list
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13231815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsImpala67/pseuds/MsImpala67
Summary: Each chapter is its own one shot with a different pairing and a different kink. The first chapter is a table of contents (which will be updated as I post each new chapter) to keep things organized for you and so you can sift through the kinks. I'll add pairings in the tags as I post them. Hope y'all enjoy!





	1. Table of Contents

**Chapter 2** : Kissing- Sam x Bela

 **Chapter 3** : On the Sofa- Sam x Dean x Adam

 **Chapter 4** : Masturbation- Destiel (Dean x Cas)

 **Chapter 5** : Blood Play- Dean x Benny

 **Chapter 6** : Oral Sex- Rowena x Charlie

 **Chapter 7:** Something New- Destiel

 **Chapter 8:** Romantic Evening- Dean x Donna

 **Chapter 9** : Blindfolds- Dean x Gabriel

 **Chapter 10** : No Speaking- Castiel x Meg (Megstiel)

 **Chapter 11** : Sex Game (First to come loses)- Sam x Castiel

 **Chapter 12** : One Catches the Other Masturbating- Wincest

 **Chapter 13** : Sex Toys- Dean x Donna

 **Chapter 14** : Dry humping- Wincest

 **Chapter 15** : Teasing- Megstiel

 **Chapter 16** : Opposite sex (change who gives and receives)- Wincest


	2. Kissing- Sam x Bela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Kissing, handjobs

Sam didn’t trust Bela. Of course he didn’t. And she didn’t try and convince him he should.

But nights like tonight, he had to give her credit. She was smart. And good at what she did.

A few bats of her eyelashes and a casual touch of the man’s arm got them all the information they needed. Easy as anything. And now they could hole up in the motel room and come up with a plan. 

“We could just go to the museum tomorrow and see the exhibit,” she said absently, hand on her hip as she stared at nothing, deep in thought. “It would give us a chance to map the place out, maybe even see if we can get a glimpse of anything going on behind the scenes that shouldn’t be.”

Sam nodded. “We could do that.” Her eyes, bright and catching the light perfectly, flickered over to his face in surprise as he spoke, like she had forgotten he was there. Her expression was soft, a little sexy, and Sam was suddenly reminded of a dream he’d had not too long ago, in which they had done a lot more than talk in a motel room very much like this one. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head.

“Alright, then,” she said, grabbing her coat and her purse. “I’ll meet you there tomorrow evening. Seven o’clock? Dress nice, like we’re on a date.”

Sam raised his eyebrows questioningly, but Bela only smiled, accent a little thicker when she spoke again. “We don’t want to look suspicious. What’s more normal than a couple going on a date?”

And then she was gone, leaving perfume in her wake.

********

The museum wasn’t overly crowded, and Sam and Bela easily made their way through the exhibit.

“Would have been easier to look around if there were more people to hide us,” Sam muttered.

Bela hooked her arm through his and leaned into his side, serene expression never faltering. “Oh, don’t be such a sour puss,” she teased. “We’ve had eyes on him all night. When we come back to do the job later, we know exactly where to go.”

It was true enough, the curator had been darting in and out of a back room all night, looking more nervous and sweaty with each trip. There was definitely something worth checking out back there.

They continued to move through the exhibit, circling back around and going through a second time, wanting to see and assess as much as possible.

And that was when the curator started watching them back.

There was no way he could have known who they were, not really, but it was best not to draw any attention to themselves at all. So Bela tossed her hair and laughed like Sam had just told some hilarious joke. Sam grinned back, staring only at her in full view of the curator, pretending not to notice the way her hair shimmered in the light.

“Is he watching?” Bela asked, turning to face Sam completely, body stretching as she leaned up on her toes.

“Yep,” Sam answered, barely moving his lips.

“Good.” And with that, Bela stretched more, until her chest was pressed up against his and her hand was tangled in his hair, pulling him down. His hands slid automatically around her to rest on the small of her back, and he tried to hide his surprise as her lips found his.

She was warm, and tasted like champagne. Sam understood what she was doing, knew this wasn’t a _real_ kiss of course, but her lips were still there, moving against his, and he could still feel the brush of her long hair against his hands as he slid them up her back, pulling her in closer.

Bela knew how to kiss, even if it was all for show.

Sam was used to girls going limp beneath him, opening up for him obediently, but Bela didn’t. She made him open for _her_ , tongue expertly peeking out against his lips until he parted them, then sliding in like she owned the place.

An electric charge ran down Sam’s spine, instinct taking over as he pushed back, finding a rhythm with her easily.

She giggled when she pulled away, loudly enough for the curator to hear, and Sam watched out of the corner of his eye as the man leered a moment before heading back into his secret room.

The kiss and the giggle had been fake, but the flush of her cheeks and the surprise in her eyes definitely wasn’t.

They were kissing again before they’d even made it into the motel room. Sam backed her against the door, mouth on hers as he fumbled with the key.

“Sam,” she sighed, and the sound of it made his blood rush faster.

When he finally got her in the room, he didn’t bother to get her to the bed. It was much easier just to press her into the wall, to get back at her mouth, biting and sucking at her lips.

Her tongue curled against his, mimicking how he was moving, rubbing against his for only a second before pulling back, using her lips more. They were soft and full, slotted right in between his perfectly, made him want to kiss her for hours.

She pulled back and moved down his jaw then, dragging her teeth over the tendons in his neck until his fingers were digging into her hips, mashing them up against his. His cock was almost completely hard, seeking out friction that she was happy to give. He felt her smile as he rutted against her, mouth still kissing its way over to his earlobe.

Bela caught it between her teeth and sucked hard, a sensation he felt in his whole body. He couldn’t hold back then. Sam yanked one of her legs up to hook around his waist, pushing against her hard as his mouth sought hers again, drinking her in, memorizing the sound she made in the back of her throat and the way it vibrated into his lips. Their noses bumped and rubbed together, their breath was hot and wet between them as they gasped for air when they could, hands clawing and tugging but not actually attempting to take off any clothing.

Normally, Sam would have a woman on the bed by now, moving things forward, but he had never enjoyed just _kissing_ as much as this. It was exciting and dirty somehow, the gentle grind of her hips and the swell of her breasts over the low hem of her neckline. He leaned down and planted a kiss right on her cleavage, sliding his tongue through the line there, tasting her sweat, tasting his own scent on her skin.

He sucked a mark into her neck as he slid his hand up her bare thigh, under her dress. Bela leaned into it and moaned, hair swirling around him in thick waves, long eyelashes fluttering, and Sam sucked until his lips were tingling, then numb, not caring that she was going to be covered in marks. She certainly didn’t seem to mind.

Eventually, he pulled back to look at her. She looked right back, same heat and challenge in her eyes that he knew were probably in his. Her lips were deep red, wet with his spit, swollen, her hair mussed, evidence of where he’d been showing up all over her.

He needed more.

This time, when he leaned in to kiss her again, she slid her hand down between their bodies and rubbed between his legs, hands curling around his cock over the thin material of his dress pants. Sam groaned, then groaned louder when she drank his tongue into her mouth, then began to suck, short and sweet pulses in the same rhythm she was using to stroke him.

Sam growled, wanted to talk, but couldn’t while Bela controlled his tongue, steadily sucking harder and harder, stroking faster and faster, until he wasn’t sure which was more sensitive, his tongue or his dick. It all felt the same, all felt amazing as she kept kissing him.

Somehow, he managed to find the concentration to slide his hand up higher, underneath her underwear, right into the wet heat of her. He thrust with the rhythm she set up, pushing into her hard, long fingers sinking into her completely each time, and she began to whimper around his tongue.

He felt her start to clench and shake around his hand, and he let go, coming with her, soaking his pants like a horny teenager who just couldn’t help himself, and God it felt better than good, just her mouth on his as he shuddered through his orgasm. He drank down her moan, tasted his name on her tongue as she shook through her own.

Before either of them could speak, his cell phone was ringing from his pocket, undoubtedly a call from his brother, one that he couldn’t ignore.

Bela peeled herself away from his body, straightened her clothing and brushed her fingers through her hair as he reluctantly barked a hello into the phone.

Sure enough, it was Dean, wanting to know if they made it back yet and what the plan was.

“We’re going back tonight, after they’ve closed. Should be a simple job, we think.”

Bela was gone by the time he hung up, just grabbed her purse and left.

But she’d be back in a few hours, Sam knew.

His lips were still tingling.


	3. On the sofa- Sam/Dean/Adam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: threesome, blow jobs, anal sex, (W)incest, top!dean/bottom!Sam

They’re brothers. _His_ brothers, although that’s less important to his current train of thought.

They are _brothers_.

Adam keeps telling himself that. But he’s been with them for a couple of days now, and he can’t shake the feeling that it’s more than that somehow. 

They’re definitely brothers, no doubt about that. They bicker and argue and know each other’s habits and stories in the way that close family always does. But the way they look at each other sometimes, the way they move like planets orbiting each other, isn’t all that brotherly. It’s a little too close, a little too much.

But Adam has to be reading into things, right? Seeing things that aren’t there?

He gets his answer in the middle of the night. Bobby is asleep upstairs, and he should be sleeping himself in this makeshift guest room, but who can sleep in times like these? He’s lying there awake when he hears the rustling.

At first, he just assumes someone is awake and adjusting their covers.

And then it happens again.

And again.

And then there’s a sigh. A soft sigh, so quiet he thinks he might have made it up, but that rustling has a rhythm now, and Adam’s heart quickens with the fact that he is not supposed to be hearing this.

But Adam can’t help his curious mind, and he has to know.

As quietly as he can, though not nearly as quiet as Sam or Dean or even Bobby would be, he sneaks through the house in his bare feet, stopping just to the side of the living room entrance, tilting his head to see the source of the quiet noise.

His breath catches in his throat to find Sam and Dean on the couch, both naked, blankets pooled on the cushion next to them. Sam is straddling Dean, sliding up and down, his hands locked on the back of the couch as he leans down to kiss his brother. Dean thrusts up into Sam and meets the kiss, then leans back, eyes closing as Sam puts a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

Adam doesn’t mean to gasp, but suddenly he has two pairs of eyes on him, bodies going still in the moonlight coming through the window.

“Adam?” Sam whispers, out of breath.

Adam shakes his head like he can make the scene go away, then holds his hands up in front of him when it doesn’t. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- didn’t mean to…”

“Shhh,” Dean warns. “Don’t wake Bobby. Come here.”

Unsure of what force is propelling him forward, Adam makes his way through the room to the couch, unable to look completely away, doing his best not to look at Dean’s cock still buried in Sam’s ass.

“You’re brothers,” he blurts in a hissed whisper.

Dean smirks. “We noticed.”

“Dean,” Sam sighs. “Don’t be a dick.” He turns toward Adam, still making no move to get off his brother. “Look, we know this is…unconventional…but honestly, what about any part of this life is normal so far?”

Adam sees the pleading in Sam’s eyes, the begging to just nod and go along with it. And honestly, he’s not wrong. Angels and demons and the devil and the apocalypse and brothers he never knew he had- _this_ isn’t actually the most ridiculous thing to happen to him recently.

So he looks at Sam and nods, does his best to silently tell him that it’s okay, he guesses.

Sam’s shoulders slump, a little relieved, but Dean only keeps staring, eyes boring into Adam.

“You don’t get it, do you?”

Adam shakes his head because he doesn’t, and he doesn’t get how they are both so calm right now. Or how he is.

“Come here. Sit down.”

Adam doesn’t move, and Dean smirks.

“Fine. Stay there. Just listen.”

Dean pumps his hips up, and Sam lets out a broken noise, held back from being a full groan.

“Hear that?” Dean asks.

Adam does. He hears the need, the desperation in it.

Dean moves again, this time pulling Sam’s hips down to get himself even deeper, and they both breathe out in unison, like a shared sigh.

Adam’s dick stirs in his sweatpants, and he sways a little.

“It’s not normal. It’s still who we are,” Dean says, as if that explains it completely.

Maybe it kind of does.

Sam finally speaks again. “Sit.” He repeats Dean’s earlier request and Adam listens this time, sits down on the couch where he can see Sam’s cock, hard and flushed and leaking up against Dean’s stomach.

“You’re our blood too, you know,” Sam says.

Adam’s completely hard now and he can feel it, can feel the blood and the bond and the power that links them. It’s big. Overwhelming. Like coming home after spending lifetimes away from it.

“I know.” His voice is a broken whisper, and he doesn’t share their history, but he needs it anyway, needs to belong with them like he needs to breathe.

Even if it’s just for the next few minutes.

Dean nods, just barely, just enough for Adam to know he isn’t going to get punched, and he leans forward a little, looking at Sam now.

Sam leans back and nods too, starts slowly moving up and down again.

Carefully, moving only on instinct and not with more thought than necessary, Adam leans down, gets his head between their bodies. The next time Sam lifts up, his cock brushes over Adam’s lips.

It’s like a key sliding into a lock. This is where Adam fits.

He opens his mouth and swallows as much of Sam down as he can, makes a wet mess as Sam thrusts into his mouth over and over as he rides Dean.

There’s a hand in his hair, and he isn’t sure if it’s Dean or Sam’s, doesn’t care. He’s part of this now, part of them.

It’s too easy to find a rhythm with them, like their bodies already know each other, and Adam lets his tongue explore, tastes and sucks how he wants to, maps out the lines of Sam’s cock with his lips.

“Jesus,” Sam huffs, and it’s Dean’s turn to put a hand over his mouth, keeping him quiet.

Eventually, Dean rubs at Adam’s shoulders, gentle but insistent. “Help me make him come.”

Adam doubles his efforts, bobbing up and down as Dean picks up his pace, and Sam is lost. Adam gets lost in the feel of their stomachs on either side of his head, on the smell of Sam’s skin, on the salty taste of his cock, and he almost comes with Sam the second he falls over the edge, hot and bitter on Adam’s tongue.

Somehow, Adam knows his night is only starting. But something feels finished inside of him. Settled.

Like maybe he understands them completely, and is where he belongs now.


	4. Masturbation- Destiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: masturbation, voyeurism

Castiel watches Dean masturbate a lot. 

The first time it happened, it was almost an accident. Dean had been in the shower, relieving some tension, and ‘Cas’ had simply been the thought in his mind. He must have thought it pretty hard too (though he would never admit to yearning or longing or praying as Cas had said), because Cas felt it. 

It had been a huge surprise for both of them when Cas showed up in the bathroom, to say the least. But it was a nice surprise, and Dean had welcomed Cas to stay.

Now, it’s a game they play. 

Dean wakes up, half-hard like he always is early in the morning, but he doesn’t touch himself as he brushes his teeth and gets dressed. Instead, he thinks about Cas. Thinks _at_ Cas. 

Before he even makes it to the kitchen for coffee, he’s balls deep in a fantasy of Cas on his knees, tongue curling around the head of Dean’s hard cock, dark eyelashes fluttering as he moans at the taste. 

_Don’t come here_ , Dean prays, knowing Cas is seeing and feeling all of this. _Wait until tonight._

For the rest of the day, he lets himself dream about Cas, lets himself fantasize and pray. First, he dreams about coming all over Cas’ pretty mouth. Then he dreams about coming all over Cas’ perfect cock. He sends Cas fantasies of being held down by his grace, teased and tortured with it until he’s begging. He sinks into a particularly detailed fantasy of Cas fucking his throat, Dean hanging his head backwards off the bed while Cas thrusts into him until he has tears in his eyes and is almost gagging with it, still wanting Cas to go deeper. 

By the time he goes to bed, far too early because he just can’t take it any longer, he’s throbbing. Aching. Painfully hard and ready. 

_Okay, Cas_ , he prays. _I’m about to take care of this. You wanna watch?_

His hand is still on his lower stomach, making its way down, when Cas appears at the foot of the bed. Dean grins at his expression, at his heated blue eyes, at the way his fists are clenched and his eyes are narrowed.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.” He pushes his boxers down and kicks one leg out to toss them to the floor. “Long day?”

The edge of Cas’ flat mouth pulls up like he wants to smile, but he doesn’t. He just nods and waits. 

Dean finally finally lets his hand wander over his cock, lets himself feel some friction, light and easy at first. Cas licks his lips. 

“You miss me today?”

Cas nods, and Dean doesn’t say anything else. Cas isn’t in the mood to talk, and now that Dean’s finally got his hands on himself, he really isn’t either. 

His movements are slow at first, just long strokes with his fingers held loose around his erection, thumb swiping over the head every now and then, slicking himself with precome. His breath catches in the back of his throat as the feeling of it sparks up his spine. It’s been a long day, and he’s sensitive. 

Those ice-blue eyes, too intense, are staring at him, drinking him in without blinking, totally focused. It makes his dick twitch in his hands, makes his balls tighten a little as he starts to move his hand faster. 

“Finger yourself, too,” Cas says suddenly. 

Dean shivers, sits up enough to stretch his hand out to Cas, two fingers extended. He keeps stroking himself with his free hand while Cas wets his fingers, slides his tongue wet and messy around and between them until they are practically dripping. 

When he falls back on the bed, he stretches his legs back until he can feel it in the back of his thighs, keeps jerking his cock as he presses his two wet fingers against his hole. They slide in fairly easily, making sweat break out over his forehead, making a groan rumble out of his throat. 

“Cas…” he moans, still praying even though Cas is there. Still worshiping even though they aren’t touching yet. This is Dean’s offering. 

He starts to thrust and stroke at the same speed, his skilled fingers finding his prostate again and again, pushing himself closer and closer.

Dean’s eyes blink open and he stares at Cas staring at him, looking at him hungrily, greedily, kicking everything he’s feeling into overdrive with the intensity of his stare. “Cas?”

Cas nods. “Go ahead and make yourself come. We’ve got all night for me to make you come again.”

Dean starts moving faster, shows off for Cas, lifts his hips, spreads himself wider, doesn’t attempt to stop any of the noises he makes. Cas doesn’t move, but his whole body seems tense, ready to spring. Dean does his best to make him do it. 

The heat and pressure builds, and Dean lets it overflow, groans loudly and squeezes himself harder when he feels the first tremor. The orgasm crashes over him hard, pulling a shout out of him as he shoots over his own fingers, covering his lower stomach as he shivers and quakes through it. He pushes into his prostate the whole time, dragging it out, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of the fantasies he’s been hoarding all day. 

When he’s breathing normally again, he relaxes his muscles and grins at Cas. “Is it my turn to watch you now?”

Cas finally grins and loosens his tie. “Actually, what I had in mind requires both of us to participate.”


	5. Blood Play- Dean x Benny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: blood play, blow jobs, rimming, anal fingering

The first time Dean offered his vein to Benny, it was because they were being hunted. He wasn’t sure what was after them, wasn’t sure how close they were to being truly dead, but he did know that they had a better chance of survival with his blood coursing through Benny. The blood made the vampire stronger, made him wild and fierce and almost indestructible. So Dean pushed up his sleeve and held his wrist out. “Drink,” he ordered. After one long glance, Benny sank his teeth in.

The second, third, and fourth times Benny drank Dean’s blood, it was the same circumstances. Imminent death, impending doom, only the blood and the boost of strength it gave Benny standing between them and the rest of Purgatory.

But the fifth time, there was no monster breathing down their necks. They had found a cave, managed to hide themselves away for the night and possibly get some sleep. Benny looked over at Dean, exhausted and injured, staring at Dean’s neck, and licked his lips.

“Go ahead,” Dean said, not looking away from the flames throwing light and shadow all over the cave walls.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

And that was all that needed to be said. The two of them were close now, fighting a war together, surviving together, and conversations weren’t necessary. They could feel each other’s weaknesses, could sense when the other needed something. It was something they had learned to do in order to survive. And right then, Benny needed blood. Dean had it. Simple as that.

But for the first time, Benny didn’t take Dean’s wrist between his lips. This time, Benny tilted his head into Dean’s neck, breathing deeply. When his teeth scraped Dean’s skin, then pierced it, Dean shivered. But he didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned forward slightly, wanting Benny just to bite a little harder.

That was the moment it all changed.

Dean wasn’t giving Benny strength, or even just allowing him to feed, although that was certainly intimate enough. Now Dean wanted this for himself, too

Dean blamed Purgatory. It was too much, too much of the same old nothing, too many monsters, too many gray days. And somehow it was also incredible- muscles flexing and stretching, testing themselves, pure instinct and survival, no thinking, just acting. The sharp sting of Benny’s teeth was the same thing. Pure physical sensation, gritty and real and making Dean feel more alive than he ever had. So Dean pressed in closer, went limp in Benny’s arms and _felt_ it.

Neither of them discussed it when it began happening on a regular basis. It was just something they did now. Something both of them quickly became addicted to.

One night, Dean’s curiosity got the better of him. “What do I taste like?” He was a little high, brain fuzzy from the lack of blood flowing through it.

Benny grunted, and Dean could hear him moving around, getting closer. It was too dark to see him, clouds blocking any light from the stars or moon that there may have been, but Dean could hear leaves crunching under Benny’s large frame as he shifted over the hard ground they were stretched out on.

“I’m sure you know what blood tastes like,” Benny told him, his rasping voice much closer to Dean’s ear than he was prepared for.

Dean listened to the muffled rustle of the leaves in the trees, ears instinctively picking up every sound in case there was one he needed to worry about. “Sure,” he said eventually, keeping his voice even and sleepy. “But I don’t know what it tastes like to _you_.”

Benny took a moment to answer, his voice lower than usual when he finally started talking. “It’s not so much about taste. That’s just metal and salt, same as it is to you. Kinda pleasant even though you know it shouldn’t be.”

Dean nodded into the dark, turning slightly in Benny’s direction, not realizing how close they were until his knee bumped Benny’s and rested slightly on top of it. “Then what’s it about?”

Benny’s breath, hot and somewhat sweet, drifted over Dean’s face. “It’s about the rush. You know I can hear your blood right now? Pumping away just…here.” Benny’s fingers pressed into Dean’s neck, right over his pulse. “This spot. I could kill you if I wanted to, could take the life right outta you and drink it down so it was mine. Hot and thick.”

Dean sucked in a breath, couldn’t help the way his heart jumped wildly.

Or the way his cock jumped with it.

“That’s what it’s about.” Benny’s hand slid down Dean’s neck to his chest, lower and lower until he was palming Dean’s dick through his dirty jeans, Dean frozen under his touch.

Benny’s mouth sealed over the bite marks on Dean’s neck, barely touching his teeth to them before Dean was bleeding again. This time, when Benny sucked, Dean felt it even more, that feeling of some primal and ancient force flowing between them, the sharing of something until they were both part of each other. It was the kind of intense and profound feeling Dean only had when he was drunk on this, when his body was weak and vulnerable and buzzing.

Dean didn’t immediately register when Benny’s mouth moved from his neck to his lips, sucking and biting at them until they were bleeding, too. But when he realized what was happening, it felt so…so right, so much the natural next step, that Dean just opened his mouth and let Benny’s tongue in, arched his hips into Benny’s hand as it rubbed over his raging erection. The taste of his own blood mixed with the taste of Benny, almost comforting, like he was safer the closer he and Benny became.

It took a while to undress. It was too dark and they were too distracted, both mouthing and sucking at exposed skin, stopping to rub together and enjoy the friction. But when Dean finally kicked his boots and pants off, his knife placed just above their heads where it could be grabbed in less than a second, he pressed his naked body against Benny’s and moaned.

“Good Lord,” Benny muttered. “I could just eat you alive right now.”

“Do it,” Dean begged.

Benny licked and nibbled his way down Dean’s body, marking Dean up, the stubble on his jaw leaving just as much of a burn as his teeth. Dean wondered what it would look like in the daylight. If it would look as fucking hot as it did in his mind.

Dean’s fingers dug into the ground when Benny licked up and down his cock, the cool dirt giving him something to hold onto while Benny made him lose his mind. Benny sucked gently at first, then opened his throat and sank down, taking all of Dean until his nose was pressed to Dean’s lower stomach, like Benny was born to do just this.

Dean let out a noise that he swore wasn’t actually a whine no matter how much it sounded like one, and pushed his hips up, trying to go deeper, even though there was no more of him to push into Benny’s mouth. Benny swallowed around him, and Dean struggled not to come. “Fuck, do that again,” he groaned, bracing himself this time.

Benny pulled off and nudged Dean’s legs farther apart, pushing his thighs back a little, licking around Dean’s balls before sliding his tongue lower to flicker over Dean’s hole. No one had ever done that to Dean before, and Dean jerked at jumped at the new feeling, discovered that it felt incredible, that he needed more. He lifted his legs and held his own thighs, bending himself almost in half so that Benny could bury his face between his cheeks, could push his tongue against Dean’s hole until it yielded and opened, then cried out when Benny’s tongue thrust inside. Benny fucked him with his tongue until he was a writhing mess, biting his lip until there was more blood in his mouth, sweat rolling over his entire body.

And then Benny spit on one of his fingers and slid it inside, his tongue still working. Dean went still, adjusting to the new feeling, sighing softly against the burning stretch as Benny worked a second finger inside. Benny moved them slowly, carefully, his mouth moving back up to suck at the head of Dean’s cock. The full feeling was new and strange, and Dean wasn’t entirely sure he needed it.

Until Benny sucked on his cock hard, curling his fingers at just the right angle. It was like Benny found the one spot of Dean’s body where all of his nerves were centered. Benny rubbed his fingers against that spot mercilessly, sparks flying up Dean’s arching spine to explode behind his eyelids, still sucking on Dean’s cock, and Dean was coming. Hot pulses spilled into Benny’s mouth, kept spilling, until Dean could feel it dripping down his cock, Dean clamping a hand over his mouth to muffle his screams as the orgasm punched its way out of him.

“Holy shit,” he panted, wincing a little as Benny pulled his fingers and mouth away and stretched out over Dean, pushing his whole body down into Dean’s. Dean felt Benny’s cock against his, hard and twitching.

Benny leaned down and sank his teeth into Dean’s neck once again, sucking hard and thrusting his hips to rut against Dean’s cock. Dean let out one more trembling spurt of come as Benny drank, as Benny rubbed against him.

When Benny came, he didn’t pull away from Dean’s neck, just kept drinking as he shook through his pleasure, a fresh, sticky mess between their bodies. He collapsed afterward, and Dean couldn’t help but stroke the strong muscles of Benny’s back, let his mind drift as they both caught their breath, the musky scent of Benny filling his senses.

“Well,” Benny chuckled. “That’s one way to pass the time here. Almost as good as the fighting.”

“Almost,” Dean smirked.

They pulled their clothes back on quickly, then settled back down to sleep, knives in hand, ready for whatever came next.


	6. Oral Sex- Rowena x Charlie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: oral sex, Charlie receiving

Oh, what the hell.

Blame it on the stress. Blame it on the frustration of not being able to crack the code. Blame it on being stuck down here for days, mind numb with the work that just isn’t paying off. Blame it on Rowena herself, all forbidden and dangerous and well, gorgeous.

Charlie has a whole list of reasons in her head, all justifying this, making it okay that Rowena is kneeling in front of her chair between her legs. Rowena’s still purring about how they’re more alike than Charlie wants to admit, how Rowena _understands_ her, but all Charlie can think about is how soft Rowena’s hair is as it brushes against her bare thighs, jeans and panties pooled around her ankles now. Her voice becomes a background noise, and Charlie can’t hear the words so much as the tone, the warm way it rolls over her skin.

She wishes Rowena would shut up and just eat her out, though. Charlie knows what she wants and she doesn’t need to be seduced at this point.

Like she can read Charlie’s mind, Rowena goes silent and leans forward, scrapes her fingernails over Charlie’s thighs, light enough that it forces a shiver up her spine. Charlie pulls one ankle completely free of her jeans, spreads her legs even wider and whines a little in the back of her throat, begging without words.

Rowena kisses first, just a sweet press of her lips right on Charlie’s clit, gentle pressure that sends a light wave of warmth over Charlie’s skin. Her eyes flick up, slanted like they’re smirking, and oh, she’s _so so_ sexy there between Charlie’s legs, mouth hidden under her nose as she dives deeper, smashing her face against Charlie.

She isn’t prepared for just how _good_ Rowena is at this. She’s had hundreds of years to perfect her technique, and it shows. Her lips curl and kiss, her tongue barely slips out, just enough to be felt, and after her initial kiss, she ignores Charlie’s clit completely, dipping lower to tease.

Charlie tilts her head back and sighs, just enjoying the warm, wet softness rubbing against her.

Rowena hums a little noise, talks right into Charlie’s pussy. “You’re already so wet for me.”

Charlie rolls her hips forward just a little, so that Rowena’s tongue nudges inside just a little.

“I knew you would be,” she says, pulling back and rubbing at Charlie’s lower stomach. “I told you. You and I have a lot in common. And I knew you’d react just like this. You want it bad, don’t you?”

Charlie’s breath is coming in short bursts now, and she’s clenching around nothing, getting wetter by the second as she aches and throbs. “Yes,” she admits grudgingly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes because she doesn’t want Rowena to keep teasing her.

“Then you shall have it.” It sounds so dramatic, but it works somehow as Rowena grins, regal as ever on her knees, in control as she leans forward and buries her face once again.

Charlie gasps and moans this time, because there’s no more teasing, no more warming up. Rowena’s tongue is deep and insistent now, licking everywhere, tasting everywhere, seeking out the places that make Charlie shudder deep inside. It’s been far too long since anyone has made Charlie dance on their tongue, and she lets it take over, forgets everything that’s stressing her out and concentrates on the heat building inside of her, on the sensations of Rowena’s mouth.

Before she means to, Charlie is grabbing the back of Rowena’s head, holding her closer, grinding against her because _oh God that feels good._ Rowena grabs her hips and helps her move, gets her in a rhythm as she thrusts her tongue, then licks her up and down.

“Come _on_ ,” Charlie begs, just needing a tiny bit more to come, and knowing Rowena isn’t giving it to her on purpose.

Apparently, that was what Rowena was waiting for and she licks up to Charlie’s clit, seals her lips around it, and sucks.

Charlie explodes in her mouth, shakes and throws her head back, comes hard and loud enough to echo off the walls. Rowena stays right where she is, sucking and flicking her tongue over Charlie’s clit until it’s too sensitive, and Charlie pushes her away to catch her breath.

Rowena smirks while Charlie squeezes her legs together, pants a little before pulling her underwear and jeans back on.

“Do you feel better now?”

Charlie grins a little, too relaxed now to be irritated or mad. “Yes. I do.”

She turns back to her computer, and it doesn’t seem quite so bad now.


	7. Something New- Destiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: filming sex, rimming

“A video camera?”

Dean warily eyes the equipment as Cas sets it up, connecting it to the laptop. Dean’s grumpy face pops up on the screen, much better quality than the simple webcam affords him when he Skypes Sam or Cas, and he frowns at it.

“Yes.” Cas doesn’t elaborate, just adjusts so that the camera is capturing the bed. 

“And why do we need a camera?”

“Because I want to film us having sex.”

Cas might as well have been commenting on the weather for all the emotion in his voice, and Dean snorts a surprised laugh.

“You wanna _what_?”

“Film us having sex.”

“Shouldn’t we…you know…talk about this? Shouldn’t you buy me dinner first?”

“I’d be happy to go with you to get something to eat if you’re hungry,” Cas tells him, finally satisfied with the camera angle and looking up at Dean.

Dean rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I meant, Cas. This is just kinda out of the blue, isn’t it?”

“I also bought a few sex toys. We can try those, if you’d prefer that to filming.”

“Toys?”

“A vibrating cock ring, some flavored lube, and some ropes for restraint.”

Dean loses his patience and grabs Cas’ shoulders, forcing him to focus. “Cas. What the hell is going on? Why did you buy all of this?”

Cas’ brow creases in that adorable way that Dean always wants to kiss. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Never said I didn’t. I just want to know what brought this mood on.”

Dean can feel Cas holding back, something he only does when he’s nervous or not sure how to phrase something properly. Dean just waits him out, knowing he’ll eventually say whatever’s on his mind.

It doesn’t take very long.

“We’ve been having sex for a while now,” Cas starts.

“Yes…,” Dean encourages.

“And I was doing some reading-”

“Cas, I’ve told you not to do that. No good comes from reading. Especially those articles on the internet you always find.”

Cas ignores him. “I was doing some reading, and I started thinking that you might get bored with our sex life. I thought we’d try something new.”

Dean laughs, doubles over and laughs harder at the offended look Cas gives him.

“What is funny?”

Dean catches his breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just…you honestly think I could ever get bored of our sex life?”

Cas relaxes a little, but he’s still squinting distrustfully.

“Seriously,” Dean continues, turning serious and reaching out to run his fingers down Cas’ jaw. “ _Nothing_ about our sex life has ever been boring. And it will never be boring.”

He leans forward and kisses Cas, steps forward to grind their hips together in the same rhythm as their tongues. Cas presses his hands into the flat of Dean’s back, lets them slide down to squeeze Dean’s ass.

When they pull away, Dean is breathless, sagging against Cas. “See? Not even your kisses are boring.”

“I just want to make sure you’re…satisfied with me.”

Dean smirks, pulls Cas with him when he starts walking backward toward the bed. “Come here. I’ll let you satisfy me all night.”

Cas pulls away long enough to press the record button on the video camera, making Dean smile indulgently, then raises an eyebrow as he looks at Dean, one that says _you’re wearing too many clothes._

Aware of the camera on him, Dean fumbles a little with the buttons on his shirt, but relaxes by the time he gets down to taking off his underwear. Cas strips, as quick and efficient as ever, and Dean gets even harder watching him, thinking about having this on film to watch whenever he wants, whenever they are forced to be apart and he’s missing him.

The camera is almost forgotten when Cas drops down on the bed and covers Dean’s skin with his. Dean groans at the feel of Cas’ body, glides his hands over all that marble-statue muscle.

Cas growls a little in the back of his throat, a low rumbling that Dean feels more than he hears, and rolls his body against Dean’s, pinning him down and biting at his throat.

The laptop catches Dean’s eye when he turns his head to give Cas room, and he remembers they’re filming, wonders what this will look like when he watches it back. Will it look as amazing as it feels? Will the sight of it possibly do the sensation of it justice?

Cas slides down Dean’s body and spreads his legs to get between them. Dean looks down to see his own cock twitching hard and swollen against his stomach, Cas’ wild hair beneath it, begging to be pulled as he slowly licks flat over Dean’s hole.

“Oh my… _Cas_ …” Dean isn’t sure if it’s an endearment or a plea, but it works, and Cas’ tongue is against his hole again, probing a little this time, hot and wet.

Cas thrusts and licks and sucks, until Dean’s sweating and thrashing against the bed, pulling at Cas’ hair. He cries out when Cas adds two fingers, stretching him open, curling up inside him and rubbing until he’s crying out Cas’ name and seeing stars.

“Cas,” he begs. “Fuck me. Please…need you inside me.”

“Do you?”

Dean leans up and looks at Cas, eyes like burning ice as his hands slide up Dean’s stomach.

“Tell me again.”

Dean lets his head fall back to the bed and swallows hard against Cas licking up his cock. “N-need you inside me, Cas. Want it so bad.”

“Look at me when you say it.”

His voice is commanding and steely. Dean lifts his head and lets Cas see his smirk. “Are you ordering me around?”

Cas immediately nods.

“See? Never boring.”

“Dean,” he warns.

Dean looks straight into his eyes. “Fuck me. I want you to get your cock inside me and fuck me so hard I won’t want to walk tomorrow.”

Cas shudders, then slithers up Dean’s body, settling one hand on Dean’s arm where his handprint used to be. Dean almost comes at that, but manages to hold on by a thread while Cas slicks himself up with his own spit.

“Are you ready? Because I’m going to make you put on a show for the camera, and then I’m going to fuck you again while we watch it.”

Dean groans and takes a deep breath to brace himself.

Yep. Cas is definitely never boring.


	8. Romantic Evening- Dean x Donna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- tooth-rotting fluff, vanilla smut

It wasn’t Dean’s intention to invite Donna to a movie when he sat down in her office. He was there simply to wrap up loose ends and see if there was anything else she needed from him before he and Sam left town.

But the words had tumbled out of his mouth anyway.

“We’re good,” Donna nodded, smiling cheerfully the way she always did. “I’ve got all the paperwork figured out, so here’s hoping that I don’t see you for a while.” As soon as she said it, her face fell. “I mean, I hope there aren’t any monsters, ya know, not that I don’t want to see you and Sam. You’re always welcome here, you know that-“

“I know,” Dean smiled. “I hope I don’t see you for a while either.”

His tone made her smile again and sigh with relief.

“But, actually, we’ll be here one more night. Sam’s sleeping off that fight. Took a couple pretty good hits in the head.”

Donna nodded, concern furrowing her brow, and Dean studied her closely. There was something about Donna that he just… _liked_. There was no other word for it. She was funny and earnest and strong, and she didn’t back down from a fight. Dean respected that. But there was something else, too. Maybe it was just that her constant optimism rubbed off on him, but he always felt a little lighter around her.

And the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “I was thinking about killing some time with a movie. Wanna come?”

Her smile chased her concern away, bright and beaming, and Dean suddenly had plans for the evening.

********

It wasn’t Dean’s intention to invite Donna to dinner after the movie. They were just going to enjoy the two hours in the air conditioning with their snacks, laugh at the bad jokes, then go their separate ways. Like friends did.

But the words tumbled out of his mouth anyway.

Her hair had been catching the light from the screen all night, and Dean realized he’d never seen her wear it down before. The ponytail Sheriff Hanscum wore was now the long mane that _Donna_ wore, hanging well past her shoulders. Long waves framed her face, made her seem younger, a little wilder, a little softer.

And her _laugh_. Dean smiled every time he heard it, even when he hadn’t thought the movie was that funny, because she laughed with her whole body, snorting sometimes, clapping her hands together or slapping his forearm. It was ridiculous, and oddly freeing.

Dean was so relaxed after the movie that he hadn’t thought twice when he looked over at her and said “You hungry?”

She nodded and looped her arm through his as they walked to the Impala. As she chatted about different types of guns, Dean grinned at the flowery smell of her perfume.

********

It wasn’t Dean’s intention to ask Donna to go out to an empty field to eat dessert and stare at the stars. They were going to grab dinner, and then he was going to drop her off at the station so she could get some work done.

But the words tumbled out of his mouth anyway.

The candle on the table of the little Italian restaurant made her skin glow. Dean had been staring at her all night, seeing her for the first time.

_Doug’s a dick_ , he thought.

He’d had that thought when they first met, but it had been objective then, just the annoyance he always felt when someone treated someone else like shit. Now that he _knew_ Donna, the thought of anyone treating her with anything other than the gentle kindness she deserved pissed him off somewhere deep in his chest, where it almost hurt.

They were sitting on the patio of the restaurant, the breeze making her hair blow a little as she ate her ravioli, offering him a bite as she reached for some of his chicken alfredo. She gave him shy, almost insecure smiles and bats of her eyelashes as easily as she gave him shit for his taste in movies, and Dean was absolutely enamored with her in that moment.

All he wanted was to spend more time with her, so when the server brought the check, he ordered dessert to go and said “I want to take you somewhere.” He knew she could hear the change in his tone, knew she would recognize the look he was giving her.

She nervously tossed her hair over her shoulder and didn’t look him in the eye, but said “Let’s go” in a strong, clear voice.

********

And then there they sat, leaning back against the windshield with their legs stretched out on the hood, empty styrofoam that once held dessert tossed into the front seat to be thrown away later.

“Thank you,” Donna whispered, the sound seeming to echo through the quiet of the night.

“For what?” Dean replied, not looking at her. The blanket of stars above them felt close enough to touch, and if Dean had been alone, he might have tried. As it were, he just smiled a little as he stared up at them.

“For tonight.” She sounded embarrassed, and Dean’s decision was made.

Slowly, letting her know exactly what he was planning to do, he turned, slid closer until their bodies were touching. She froze, didn’t move, and Dean swore he could hear the panic in her brain. “You know you deserve tonight, don’t you? I mean, you probably deserve it from someone better than me. But you deserve it.”

Donna turned then, looking at him like she wanted to believe him, like she was still terrified he might disappear at any second.

His hand found her hip, slid up to rest in the dip of her waist. “I ain’t makin’ any promises or anything. We’re both adults who know better than that. But this? You and the stars and tonight? Doesn’t get much better.”

“You’re just being sweet,” she said, and Dean could hear the hurt behind her laugh, the brave face she was putting on not quite brave enough. He really wished he could fix all the things that had made her question anyone who wanted her.

“I’ll take you home if you want me to,” he said. “But I wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t wanna be. That’s just a fact.”

He let her come to him, watched as she made the decision for herself that she wanted this. He pretended that his sigh was just pleasure, and not relief, when she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, though he knew it was both. Dean could always take or leave the women he met, not around long enough to get attached. But if he’d had to let Donna go before he got to taste her, before he got to learn the feel of her skin…well, that would have hurt.

Donna’s lips were soft and full, and now that she had decided this was happening, some of her shyness was gone. Dean rolled to his back, the solid metal of the Impala beneath him, and Donna rolled too, only hesitating for a second, then giggling against his lips when he grabbed her by the belt loops and yanked until she was sprawled on top of him. She kissed him deeply, with total abandon and sweet innocence, focused entirely on their lips and tongues, no grinding or pushing for anything more.

It was _fun_. Dean was suddenly a teenager again, excited at just making out with a pretty girl. Her hair surrounded him, falling in thick waves around his face like a gorgeous curtain sheltering them, isolating them from the outside world. How had he not noticed before tonight how delicate her hands were? Or how full her breasts were? They slid against his chest as they moved together, and he couldn’t stop himself from running his hands up her back and pressing her closer.

Dean realized that while he respected and loved Sheriff Hanscum, he hadn’t truly appreciated Donna. He wanted to _see_ her.

He gently tugged at the hem of her shirt until she sat up and finished the job, straddling his lap, looking everywhere but his eyes once her bra was unhooked.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Look at me.” He let his hands wander up sides, feeling the soft give of her, how warm her skin was. “Don’t blush. You’re gorgeous.”

She smiled slightly, like he was just indulging her, and that settled it. He made it his mission to spend the rest of the night touching her, enjoying her, losing himself in her until she felt it too, felt all the reasons why he was the lucky one tonight.

They moved slowly, all passionate kisses and lingering touches, exploring each other, the stars always in sight, twinkling down on them. When Donna came, she bit her lip and held in her moan like she was afraid of Dean’s reaction. So Dean made her come three more times, until she was crying his name and shaking with it, sweat breaking over her skin, laughing as the aftershocks wore off like she just couldn’t help it.

She was perfect.

And Dean had to admit, as much as he wanted to be good to her, to look at her the way she deserved to be looked at, he liked the way she looked at him, too. He liked the way she bit at his bottom lip, the way she lifted her hips with each of his thrusts, like she needed more of him. She made him feel wanted in a way he wasn’t used to. She wasn’t here because of some lie he’d told, or because she just thought he was hot. She knew him. And wanted him.

********

It wasn’t Dean’s intention to ask Donna to come to the bunker the next time she had a weekend off. This was just a fun night, a happy surprise that wouldn’t happen again.

But the words tumbled out of his mouth anyway.

He dropped her off as the sun was coming up, her hair a mess, her lips red and swollen, her skin still flushed. She carried her boots in her hand as she got out of the Impala, grinning as Dean got out too.

“You don’t have to walk me to my door, ya know. I’m a grown woman. I can handle the walk of shame.”

“Shame?” He raised an eyebrow at her, then laughed when she threw herself in his arms and kissed her.

“Yes,” she breathed against his mouth. “Terrible shame. I can’t believe I slept with a guy who doesn’t like comedy.”

“That movie wasn’t comedy!” Dean protested, before kissing her again.

She was smiling with her eyes still closed when he pulled away. He was halfway to his car when he turned around and called out. “Come see me. The next time you have a few days off, come to the bunker.” The words were out before he could have stopped them, but he really didn’t want to.

Donna just smiled shyly and nodded yes, waving as she headed up her driveway.


	9. Blindfolds- Dean x Gabriel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: use of blindfolds, blowjobs

“Nope.” Gabriel’s hands grab Dean’s wrists and stop him from taking off his blindfold. “Not yet. You keep that on, pretty boy.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but it’s a half-hearted gesture. Gabriel can’t see it anyway, and he isn’t actually annoyed. He has to keep up appearances though, and part of him just can’t let Gabriel see how much he’s enjoying this.  


Gabriel’s fingers run down his bare chest, light and teasing, tracing his ribs, circling his bellybutton, and the touch seems warmer than usual. Dean can’t see it, has to rely on his nerves to feel it, and they are paying extra attention. 

“You ready for more?”

Dean nods, knees a little unsteady. He hopes the bed is nearby if he falls.

Gabe’s hands keep exploring, drawing out shorter, sharper breaths. Dean isn’t sure why he does this, why he keeps coming back, isn’t sure what it is about Gabriel, isn’t sure what gives him this sense of freedom to let go and enjoy himself. It doesn’t matter. He knows how good he’ll feel in a few minutes, and that’s all that matters. 

“You need it.” It’s like Gabriel can hear his thoughts. “It’s what you are. A good little soldier. You follow orders.”

Dean winces at those words. They still cut through him. 

“And it’s okay,” Gabe continues, his hand wrapping around Dean’s cock now. “It’s perfect. Do you have any idea how rare you are? How beautiful?”

Dean shivers and thrusts his hips just a little, just to feel more of Gabriel’s touch. He can feel Gabriel smile without seeing it, and for the next few minutes, he lets himself believe Gabe’s words. 

Too soon, before Dean’s ready to let go of the sensation, Gabe pulls his hand away. Dean stares into the black of the blindfold as he waits, hunter’s senses listening for sounds that aren’t there, sounds of footsteps or breathing, anything to let him know what he’s going to do next. But angels don’t make noise, and all Dean can hear is his own heartbeat, his own deep whooshes of air as he tries to stay calm. 

Gabe waits him out, waits until his muscles are rigid and there’s sweat running down his chest in anticipation. Parts of his body that never get used wake up, get ready just in case that’s where Gabriel chooses to go next. 

“ _Fuck_.”

It’s Gabe’s mouth, that smirking, tease of a mouth that touches him next. He sucks at the head of Dean’s hard cock like it’s a piece of candy, and Dean’s so angry that he can’t see it, can’t see the angel on his knees. 

But he can’t stay angry for long, not when Gabe sinks lower, takes him deeper until Dean is pushing at the back of his throat.

It’s a punishment, this teasing torture. A punishment Dean deserves. He doesn’t allow himself to move, forces himself to be that good little soldier the universe thinks he is. This is what he deserves. To feel Gabe’s mouth so close, to have that warm, wet heat around his cock without being able to move, without thrusting his hips like he wants to or tugging at Gabe’s hair, without moaning about how good it feels. 

And without being able to see any of it.

He’s at Gabriel’s mercy, and that’s exactly how it should be. 

Gabe knows better than Dean why this helps so much. 

He digs his hands into the barely there curve of Dean’s hips and holds him so tightly he can’t even tremble. The pleasure pools in his dick because it has nowhere else to go, can’t come out in his breaths or his movements, and it’s almost too much. Dean feels like he’s dying from the sharpness of it, from the burning that has no relief in sight. They’ve done this before, and Gabe always takes his time. 

Tonight is no exception, and Gabe’s tongue spends what feels like hours exploring every individual millimeter of Dean’s cock, licking and kissing and sucking, letting his teeth gently scrape because he knows how hard Dean has to work not to come at that. It’s slow and intentional and makes sweat pour over Dean’s skin, purging him of everything inside of himself he can’t stand to think about.

Even if it’s only for a few hours, it’s worth it. 

Gabe eventually lets him come, a hard, jarring, shaking orgasm that feels like his whole body is coming apart. He does eventually fall down, but Gabriel’s arms are there and he doesn’t hit the floor, but a warm, solid body instead. 

The dim light in the room seems bright as the sun when Gabriel finally takes the blindfold off, and Dean blinks blearily until everything comes into focus. Something about the way Gabe’s mouth is still red and a little wet makes him shiver, but that’s all the sappiness he’s entitled to. Gabe is already helping him on his feet before he can catch his breath. 

Dean gets dressed, and Gabriel vanishes with a smirking kiss and a pat on the ass. 

As he falls into bed and drifts to sleep, he feels light enough to float. The demons inside are all soothed for the moment, and he’ll actually get some rest when he closes his eyes. 


	10. No Speaking- Castiel x Meg (Megstiel)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: blow jobs, no talking during sex

It’s already unusual and strange to be in hiding with Meg.

Castiel shouldn’t be working with her in the first place, and angels and demons are more fight than flight. But they don’t know who else is in this place, or what exactly they’re up against, so he doesn’t argue when she pulls him into a tiny room at the back of the cathedral, one that looks like it might be used for private prayer or communion.

But if that wasn’t already strange and unusual, her hand between his legs certainly is. 

His head whips around to find her smirking, the touch not accidental at all.

He can hear the voices on the other side of the door, and he knows they’d be able to hear him as well, and all he can do is silently raise an eyebrow at her as he pushes her hand away.

She shrugs her shoulders and gives him an eyebrow raise of her own, a suggestive one as she reaches back out, stops just short of touching him again. Waiting for him to give permission.

It’s so wrong. They are in a church. They have important work to do. She’s a demon.

But _oh_ , Cas wants to. Wants _her_.

So often, Cas feels like he’s free falling, like he’s about to crash into something, like he’s out of control and has no purpose or direction. Meg doesn’t fix any of that, of course, but she does make him feel like he’s giving into it, like the moral ambiguity of the other side isn’t without its perks.

And she makes him feel wanted. Cas misses being useful, misses following orders and having a job to do. Meg seems to understand, and is always willing to give him a place to belong.

So Castiel pushes his hips forward, his cock swelling into her hand as she smiles.

The gasp dies in his throat when she squeezes. He swallows it down and forces himself to be quiet.

This isn’t the first time they’ve done this very thing, and Cas knows what comes next. Meg teases him, makes him beg, slides herself around him and shows him things he’s never dreamed of. Only, there are still voices outside the closed door, and they can’t get caught.

Her silent smile curls her lips as she carefully reaches inside his pants to pull him free, rubbing her thumb over the damp head of his cock. With her free hand, she gently runs her fingers over his eyes, closing them.

_Oh._

Cas can’t see. Can’t talk to her. He can only feel her hand, can only smell her hair.

He doesn’t hear her drop to her knees, but her mouth replaces her hand on his cock with no warning at all, wet tongue licking up the drop of precome. Cas’ knees almost buckle, but he manages to control himself, to steel himself against the human sensations of his vessel. His teeth clench and he doesn’t make a single sound as he pushes forward, sinks himself into her mouth inch by inch.

The only sound is the wet smack as he thrusts, over and over, using her mouth because she wants him to, because she’s got her hands on his ass pulling him deeper each time until he’s down her throat, smashing his balls against her chin.

Cas tries to save all the thoughts going through his mind, memorizes the words so he can growl them at her when he has the chance, when he’s allowed to talk again. And somehow, it’s almost hotter this way, that he can’t say any of them, that there isn’t a real need for them after all. There’s only her mouth and his cock and the rhythm between them. Primal. Animal. Perfect.

He grabs her hair and tugs, urging her to go faster, to suck harder and messier. She goes along with it, and when he blinks his eyes open and looks down at her, there’s a hungry gleam in her eyes.

It’s that look that pushes him over the edge.

Still without a sound, he comes down her throat, feels how he coats her throat as he shudders. When she finally pulls away, he hears her swallow. It’s not a sound he’s ever paid attention to before, but now that everything else is so silent, he hears it for what it is and his cock jumps at the wet working of her throat. lets out one last, weak pulse.

They have nothing to do but stand there until it’s safe for them to come out, and Cas thinks of all the things he wants to say when he gets the chance.

But the longer they stand there in silence, the more the words melt out of his brain. Words would make what just happened like any other time. And Cas wants to keep this one for what it was, wants to keep this one as different.

When they are out in the open again, carefully making their way back to safety, Cas still doesn’t say anything at all.


	11. Sex Game- Sam x Castiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: teasing, rimming, anal sex, top!Sam

Now that Cas is human, there are a lot of things that he and Sam can’t do anymore. Cas can’t tease Sam with grace until he’s sweaty and begging. Sam can’t slam into him as hard as he possibly can, knowing it won’t hurt Cas at all.

Everything feels a little hesitant at first, like they have to be careful with each other, and Sam finds himself kind of sad, mourning the loss of their wild sex life a little.

And then he has an idea.

“Mornin’ Cas,” he murmurs, nuzzling into that mess of dark hair and grinning when Cas tries to shove him away. “Don’t be grumpy.”

“Then don’t wake me up.”

“Oh, come on. Wake up and play a game with me.”

Cas opens one eye and glares at Sam suspiciously. “A game?”

Sam moves to hover over Cas, so close to all that warm skin but careful not to touch it. “Yeah. Let’s see who can last the longest without coming.”

Cas takes a minute to process Sam’s words, and Sam sees his mouth twitch as he tries to hide his smile. “And what does the winner get?”

Sam cocks his head to the side and thinks for a moment. “Breakfast in bed tomorrow morning?”

Cas does smile then, running his hands up Sam’s arms. “I’ll play.”

Sam lowers himself down onto Cas then, skin against skin, and licks over Cas’ jaw. “Good.”

He starts a gentle grind, his dick rubbing against Cas’, because he knows how much Cas likes that, how Cas likes to hold him close and writhe together until they make a complete mess of each other.

Cas sighs and leans his head back, smiling softly now as his hips cant up to thrust against Sam’s. Sam grits his teeth and drags harder, moves faster, knowing that Cas will break before he does if they stay in this position.

But Cas stops him with a deep kiss, one that’s wet and dirty and completely captures Sam’s attention, so much so that he doesn’t realize Cas has turned them until he pulls away and gets out of bed, leaving Sam lying there on his back, bemused.

“I guess we tie in round one,” Cas grins.

Breakfast goes much the same way, moving around each other in the kitchen, touching here and there in the special ways they know get to each other the most, stopping only when Dean comes in and shuffles his way through fixing a bowl of cereal. Sam is tempted to tease Cas under the table, with Dean right there, but they got caught last time and Dean didn’t speak to them for a week.

So he controls himself and just stares instead, wondering just how many dirty promises he can make with his eyes.

A lot, if Cas’ blush is any indication.

An hour later, when Dean heads out to run some errands, Sam hits his knees before the Impala is even completely out of the garage, pulling Cas’ hips close and dragging his pants down. Cas is soft, but Sam sucks him down anyway, moaning as his cock swells against his tongue, fills his mouth as it hardens.

He wants to win this game, so he doesn’t tease. Cas grabs his hair and gasps at the first hard suck as he takes him all the way down his throat, until his nose is nestled against Cas’ body where it belongs. Sam doesn’t move his head. Instead, he grabs Cas’ hips again and starts moving them back and forth, making Cas fuck his mouth.

“Sam…I…ohhhh,” Cas groans.

Sam would grin if his mouth wasn’t full. He knows Cas is close, can feel it when his balls draw up and his sounds become a little higher-pitched.

“Sam.”

The sudden hardness in Cas’ voice is very much like it was when he was an angel, when he was ordering Sam around. Without thinking, Sam stops what he’s doing, pulls away and blinks up at Cas like it’s an instinct, like that tone of voice has power over him.

Shit. This isn’t going to be as easy as he thought.

Cas smiles and runs a hand through Sam’s hair. “It’s no fun if you don’t give me a turn.”

Sam, still under Cas’ spell, nods.

A few moments later, Sam finds himself sprawled out on the floor, naked, Cas’ head buried in his ass.

Sam would never admit it to anyone but Cas, but he fucking loves being eaten out. He loves how hot and wet and rough Cas’ tongue feels against him. He loves how sensitive his rim is, how Cas can send fire through his whole body with one little lick. His toes curl and he breaks out into a sweat, and there is no chance of being quiet.

Cas has made him come from this, from only this, many times in the past, and Sam tries his best to pay attention, to notice when Cas starts going deeper, when he starts kissing and sucking harder, when his own legs start to shake.

When that happens, Sam squeezes the base of his cock and clamps his jaw, determined. Cas senses the change and pulls back, half-irritated and half-amused.

“This is going to go on all day, isn’t it?”

Sam shrugs. “Dean will be be back in a couple of hours. It would be a shame to have to stop and act normal until tonight. So maybe we set a time limit?”

“Okay,” Cas nods. “I will do my best to make you come in two hours.”

Sam grins. “But it’s my turn.”

This time, it’s Sam who does the rimming, but only as an excuse to open Cas up. It doesn’t take long before he’s sliding home, doing his best to hit Cas’ prostate from the very first thrust. From the sound Cas makes, Sam knows he’s successful.

He grinds deep and slow, letting his chest rub against Cas’ back, letting their legs tangle together as he moves only his hips. Cas tries his best to stay still, but his back still bows perfectly the longer Sam thrusts, his whole body melting against Sam’s. He’s sweaty, groaning and leaning into Sam’s hand when he pulls on all that dark hair.

Sam’s gonna win.

It’s only then that he realizes how close he is to an orgasm himself. In all of his passion and desire to make Cas come, he hasn’t been paying attention, hasn’t been holding himself back.

He slows down, braces his hands on either side of Cas’ head and pushes himself up, until they are barely touching, only the tip of his cock still inside of Cas.

Cas cranes his neck to try to look back. “Sam?”

“It’s too much,” Sam murmurs.

“Are you surrendering?”

To Cas? Always.

Sam grins. “I’ll give in if you do.”

Cas answers by squeezing himself around Sam, closing his eyes and letting out the hottest low sound of pleasure Sam’s ever heard.

They lose the game together, Sam thrusting a few more times while reaching around to stroke at Cas until they both go still and silent, a calm before a storm of shaking muscles and grabbing hands and biting teeth, both of them letting go and getting lost in the feel of the other’s pleasure.

“Sam,” Cas sighs, squirming away as soon as his body works again, only so he can turn around and offer his mouth for a kiss.

They make out for a few minutes like teenagers, sweet and innocent, like they haven’t seen and done things that are beyond anything a human should be able to stand.

They lost the game.

And they both won.


	12. One Catching the Other Masturbating- Wincest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: masturbation, hand job

Sam couldn’t look away.

He knew he should leave the room, should back out and close the door quietly, and hope Dean didn’t ever find out he’d been there for those few seconds. But his feet wouldn’t move.

It was almost odd, really, that they’d never walked in on each other jacking off before now. Living in the Impala and tiny cheap motel rooms, never more than a few feet from each other, it was only natural that they saw everything. They saw each other get dressed, heard each other snore, knew every movement the other was going to make before he made it.

So it would have made sense that one of them interrupted the other, especially when they were teenagers. But the bathroom had always stayed private. And if their nightly showers were longer than they needed to be, neither of them said anything. A man has needs, after all.

Only this morning, Dean wasn’t in the shower. The bathroom door hadn’t even been locked, and Sam thought Dean was shaving, or maybe brushing his teeth. He didn’t think twice about heading in to look for his lost socks.

And there Dean was. Fully naked, leaning back against the counter, hand on his cock, going at it.

Every teenage fantasy Sam had ever had came rushing back like they’d never left.

_I’m over this_ , Sam thought. _I’ve been over this for years_. Even so, he couldn’t stop staring at Dean. He was just so beautiful. And it wasn’t just the long lines of muscle or miles of creamy skin. Sam was already intimately familiar with those, as it was a pain in the ass to try and stay covered all the time when you lived as close as they did. Neither of them minded going naked in front of the other when they were changing clothes or cleaning an injury, and it was actually something Sam had gotten used to.

But he had never seen Dean naked like this.

Sam had never seen the way Dean’s broad shoulder rolled as his arm moved. He’d never seen the way Dean’s skin flushed a deep rose color, from his cheeks down to his chest, making his freckles stand out. And, _oh God,_ he’d never seen Dean’s strong thighs, solid and thick, shaking with the effort of standing upright when he was lost like this. And Sam had never, _never,_ seen Dean’s cock when it was hard, fat and swollen and deeply flushed, leaking precome over Dean’s long fingers.

Sam felt his own dick throb and harden as Dean stroked himself slowly, almost like he was teasing himself. Dean was so fucking gorgeous, so perfect. Sam was thirteen again, watching Dean’s wet skin shining in the sunlight by a motel swimming pool and wishing he could touch him. He was fourteen and listening to Dean tell some guys he’d met at school about some girl that had sucked his dick, and wishing desperately that he could do it. He’d do it so much better than that girl. Sam was sixteen again, hating himself for not being able to stop from getting hard every time his brother touched him, falling apart at a punch on the shoulder or a hand mussing his hair.

All those feelings back instantly, all that time getting rid of them wasted, as he watched Dean’s cock swell and twitch under his hand.

“Dude. If you’re not gonna help, get out.”

Sam’s eyes snapped up to Dean’s face, horrified that Dean had seen him, that he had lingered, but Dean wasn’t looking back. He still had his head tilted back, eyes closed and brow furrowed as he concentrated. Dean had heard him. Or just sensed him. Neither would surprise Sam. Only now he was caught, and he would never be able to look Dean in the eye again.

“I’m sorry,” Sam stammered awkwardly, “I didn’t-I mean…” And then he really heard what Dean had said, and he couldn’t stop the next words out of his mouth. “Do you _want_ me to help?” It wasn’t a proposition. It was a legitimate question, something Sam desperately needed to know.

Dean finally opened his eyes and lazily turned his gaze to Sam, hand still moving over his cock, the other hand actually reaching down to tug at his balls, totally unashamed. Several expressions seemed to cross his face in that tense moment, doubt and fear and hesitation, all laced with the lust of the blood pumping through him. But when he finally spoke, his voice was full of heat, full of longing that Sam had only ever imagined. “Yeah, Sammy. You can help.”

Every teenage fantasy Sam had ever had became a reality then, as he instantly rushed forward, unable to think or talk himself out of it, only able to answer Dean’s call. He was across the bathroom, standing closer to Dean than he’d ever stood before, in one long stride. He blinked at Dean, waiting to be told what to do.

Dean moved his hands out of the way, gripping the edge of the counter instead, bracing himself as he offered his cock to Sam.

This. 

It was almost too much for Sam as he looked down the flat of Dean’s stomach to where his erection curved up, waiting, practically begging. Tentatively, not daring to breathe, Sam reached out with a shaky hand. Dean’s skin was warm as he trailed his fingers down his stomach, then gently brushed over his thighs.

“Shit, Sammy,” Dean gasped, as his cock gave a pleading jerk.

Sam saw it in Dean’s face then. Dean had been holding back all these years, too.

“Oh, God, Dean.” All of Sam’s fear left him, nothing left but need, the need to feel Dean, to make Dean come. “Oh, God,” he said again, fingers finally curling around Dean’s hard length, “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

Dean’s mouth fell open, and he sucked in a panting breath as Sam began to move his hand, his grip sliding smoothly with the help of Dean’s precome, steadily leaking out now. And Sam went to work. He twisted his wrist with expert ease, knowing exactly how fast and how hard to move, knowing that what felt good to him probably felt good to Dean too. But oh, fuck, this was…this was Dean. Dean, hot under his hand, and Sam could actually feel the blood pumping through Dean’s cock.

Sam was mesmerized by the way that Dean just gave in, let the pleasure wash over him. The pleasure that _Sam_ was allowed to give him. Sam ignored his own desire to reach into his jeans and relieve his own pressure, because he didn’t want to miss a second of memorizing the lines of Dean’s dick in his hand, or the swell of Dean’s lip where he’d bitten it trying to hold back a moan.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam urged, using his free hand to gently roll Dean’s balls in his hand. “Come for me. I want to see it.”

Dean grunted, balls growing tight in Sam’s hand. “Holy shit, Sammy, that’s…that’s… _ohhhh_ …” Sam rubbed his thumb over the head of Dean’s cock, pressing in hard, watching Dean’s stomach contract as his body tensed up.

“That’s it,” Sam encouraged, “give it to me.” Sam hoped that one day, he’d know what it was like to feel Dean come down his throat, but tonight, he wanted to see it.

Dean was beautiful, arching into Sam, seeking more contact as he spilled over Sam’s fingers. Sam kept his head down, watching each thick, white, perfect pulse shoot out, paying close attention as Dean trembled and shook, an earthquake that could swallow Sam up. Sam wanted it to.

“Sam.” That one word, spoken in that broken, hoarse tone. It was all Sam needed, and he was coming too, leaning forward to bury his head in Dean’s bare shoulder, lips against Dean’s neck as he let out a surprised groan and made a total mess of his jeans.

“Sam, did you just…” Dean’s hand wandered to Sam’s crotch and Sam jumped, too sensitive after everything that had just happened. “You came, just from-”

“From touching you.” Sam didn’t leave his home in the crook of Dean’s neck. He wasn’t ready. “Wanted to do that for a long time.” That was an understatement if there ever was one, but Sam knew Dean understood.

“I should’ve left the door unlocked a long time ago, then,” Dean joked weakly, still breathing hard, nuzzling his jaw against Sam’s hair.

Sam ran two fingers gently over Dean’s cock, soft now. “Yeah. I guess you should’ve.”


	13. Sex Toys- Dean x Donna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: use of a vibrator

“What are you so happy about?” Donna’s still sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala where Dean left her, one leg bent underneath her and long hair curling around her shoulders, grinning at him. 

His smile widens. “I got you something.”

She takes the soda and candy bar from him and nods. “Thanks. I could definitely use the sugar rush.”

“That’s not it. I got you something while I was in the bathroom.”

She looks at him skeptically, eyebrows drawing down when she frowns. 

Dean laughs. “Relax. They had one of those novelty vending machines with fancy condoms and stuff.”

She bursts into laughter. “What, did you get a condom that’s ‘ribbed for my pleasure’?” 

“Nah, I figure my dick’s fine as it,” Dean teases. “I got you this.”

He tosses a small object in the air, which Donna easily catches. Dean watches as she reads the label on the plastic packaging. 

“A vibrating tongue ring?” She sounds equal parts shocked and amused, a pretty flush creeping into her cheeks that makes Dean want to kiss her. 

“Yep.” He leans over and noses her hair out of the way to whisper in her ear. “I want to put that on when I eat you out.”

Donna shivers a little, like he’s just said something truly dirty, like it’s the first time he’s ever mentioned sex to her. He will never get tired of the way she reacts to him.

“Let’s get goin’, then,” she whispers. “Get to the next real town and find a motel.”

Dean nods and starts the car, watches her out of the corner of his eye as she opens the vibrator and inspects it. 

It’s still in her hands ten minutes later when he pulls over. 

“Why are we stopping?” she asks. 

“Because I can’t wait to get to the motel.”

Donna gapes at him. “We’re on the side of the road!”

“In the middle of nowhere. No one is going to drive by, and even if they did, they won’t see anything, I promise.”

She looks down at the vibrating tongue ring in her hands, then holds it out for him to take, a smirk pulling at the edges of her pretty pink lips. 

“I’m gonna come around to your side of the car. Your pants better be off when I get there.”

The night air is cool and fresh on his skin, calming him down a little as he walks around the back of the car, moving slowly as he figures out how the toy works. By the time he gets to the passenger door, he’s got it ready to slip on. But first, he wants to really kiss her, no toy getting in the way. 

Donna’s legs spill out the second he opens the door, bare and gleaming in the moonlight, curves he wants to grab onto and bury himself in. He knows she’s still a little shy sometimes, but she doesn’t hesitate to spread her legs this time, offering herself to him. 

Dean gets to his knees on the ground, pulls her right to the edge of the seat and throws her legs over his shoulders, playfully sucking at her thighs while she gets comfortable. She’s so warm, the scent of her fruity soap filling his nose as he licks at her skin, nonsense patterns that make their way closer and closer to her pussy. 

She’s already wet. One gentle flick of his tongue tells him that, and it makes his half-hard cock swell instantly, pressing against his jeans now. 

“Dean,” she groans, hands going into his hair like they always do, like she just has to touch him. 

It’s not enough. Dean isn’t going to stop until Donna is _screaming_ his name. 

He pushes his tongue in deeper, not stopping until his nose is against her and he can feel her clit hardening beneath his lips. He sucks a little, then flicks his tongue hard and fast over the nerves there, groaning a little himself when she pulls his hair hard enough to sting. 

Donna loves being eaten out. It had taken a few times before she even let him do it, claiming that it made her self-conscious and that it hadn’t been that fun the few times she’d tried it. But Dean kept that door open, and when she shyly admitted one night she’d like him to try, he had made damn sure to show her just how good it could be. Now, there are nights when she can’t get enough, when he makes her come four of five times on his tongue, when he licks at her until his jaw is sore and he can’t feel his lips. 

Those are his favorite nights. 

Her thighs tighten around his head and he has to push them apart a little to keep going. He thrusts his tongue inside her and listens to the leather squeak beneath her as she clenches her body, arches up into nothing. The sound makes his balls draw up and tighten. 

“Please, Dean…”

He pulls away long enough to slip the vibrator around his tongue and turn it on. It feels strange to have something buzzing away in his mouth, tickles a little, but he doesn’t mind. Donna watches, then nods when he gets close and pauses, asking for permission. 

Slowly, gently, he licks a long line from her entrance to her clit, letting the vibrator glide over the slick, sensitive area.

“Oh my… _Dean_ …” she huffs, hands leaving his hair and smacking against the seat of the car. 

Dean can’t speak with the toy on, can’t ask her if it feels good, but the noises she makes are enough. He keeps the vibrator loose, allowing his tongue to slide around with it, still getting the taste of her all over himself. 

When he thrusts into her again, she cries out, pushes her hips into his face as she tries to take him deeper. He stays there for a moment because Donna goes crazy. She dances on his tongue, whole body starting to tremble, her breath coming in loud gasps. 

Dean knows all the signs, and he lets her get as close as he can to her orgasm before pulling away and moving back to her clit. 

“D-Dean…” Her voice isn’t quite a scream yet, so Dean keeps going. 

He teases, letting the vibrator rest in different spots until she moans, then moving onto the next. He tortures, licking over her clit in a slow rhythm, watching her twitch each time at the sensations of it, until her hands are back in his hair and smashing his face against her. He writes the alphabet there, right over the tiny, most sensitive spot on her body, buzzing tongue dragging over her, messy and steady. 

That’s when she screams. 

“ _Dean!_ I’m gonna…gonna…”

She never quite gets the words all the way out, and Dean doesn’t know if Donna’s still shy about it or just never has time to finish her sentence. He doesn’t mind. 

He stays right where he is as she comes, feels her expand and contract around him, watches her shake through it, listens to her scream her pleasure into the darkness around them. He stays until Donna pushes him away and squeezes her legs together, too sensitive to take any more. 

She pants for a moment, laughs a little when she sits up and has to search for her panties in the floorboard of the Impala.

“That was a fun toy,” she tells him. 

“Thought you’d like it,” he smirks, getting up, dusting off his jeans and heading back around to the driver’s side. He slides in as she finishes zipping up her jeans. 

“Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You think I could maybe wear that on _my_ tongue when we get to a motel? Maybe see if it’s fun for you, too?”

Dean throws an arm around her and hauls her across the seat into his side. “I think we can definitely do that.”


	14. Dry Humping- Wincest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: dry humping

Dean hums absently as he loads the clothes into the washer. He can hear Sam moving around behind him, folding the clothes that just came out of the dryer, comfortably silent as the afternoon wears on, calm and serene.

They haven’t spoken much, but they’ve been together all day in the laundry room of the long-term motel, catching up on the loads of laundry they always put off until the last minute, Sam reading and Dean napping in a chair while they wait to put in the next load. They only have four loads of laundry between them, and Dean is putting in the third one when Sam finally acknowledges that they’re in the same room. He moves to his chair, where his book is waiting for him, but he takes the long way, passing by Dean and brushing up against him. Dean feels Sam’s chest lightly slide across his back, feels the warmth and tingle that always bubbles up inside him when Sam is that close.

But when he looks over, Sam is settling into the chair, picking up his book as if nothing happened. So Dean hops up on the table next to their folded clothes and swings his legs, still humming. He can feel the blood start to pool in his cock, a gentle and satisfying ache, and waits. Waits for Sam.

When the third load is done, Sam gets up, heads for the dryer without looking at Dean. As he gets closer, Dean’s heart beats a little faster in anticipation. Sam doesn’t disappoint. His hand drops to Dean’s thigh, squeezes gently, fingers trailing from his hip down to his knee, before continuing on, opening the dryer and going back to his chore. Dean smiles as he feels his cock swell a little more, certain that Sam is doing this on purpose now. He hops off the table and slides a chair under the door handle, effectively making sure they are left alone.

It’s Dean who teases Sam this time as he heads back to the washer. Sam’s bent over, pulling clothes out of the dryer, his ass perky as ever and on full display. Dean can’t stop himself from grabbing Sam’s hips and pushing against him, dragging his now fully hard dick over Sam, his jeans straining against the bulge and adding even more friction. He forces himself to let go after one push, to step over to the washer and act like nothing happened, just as Sam had.

Dean throws the wet clothes into the dryer, throws the final dirty load into the washer, then turns to really look at Sam. Dean’s eyes follow Sam’s large hands as they fold the clothes, drift up to his broad chest, higher to his flushed cheeks and the piece of messy hair that sticks the opposite direction from the rest. His Sammy is so fucking beautiful that it sticks in his chest, a large, hot lump that Dean swears might be more vital to him than his own heart.

Dean can’t stop himself then. He breaks the silence.

“Are we done teasing, Sammy?”

Sam’s eyes snap up, and he’s moving before Dean has even finished the sentence, charging right up against Dean, leaning down to nose into Dean’s neck, to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist so that Dean can turn them, can lift Sam up to sit on the dryer. It rumbles and purrs beneath them as Dean drives his hips into Sam, fingers digging into his thighs.

“Dean,” Sam whines, and the need Dean hears in it does him in. He never stood a chance. Not with Sam.

Dean leans back and pulls his shirt over his head, then tugs at Sam’s, taking a second to throw them in the washer with the load already going. Slowly, he takes off his jeans and socks, letting Sam look his fill of his body as he adds those to the washer with a “might as well” shrug. Dean enjoys dragging this out, likes the burn of staring at Sam’s long legs as he peels the denim away from them, likes the roar of blood in his ears as he forces himself to show restraint.

Finally, they are down to their underwear, Dean in his plaid boxers, Sam in his black boxer-briefs that hide nothing. Dean can see the line of his cock, hard and long and thick as it taunts Dean, begs to have Dean’s mouth around it. But that’s not what Dean is in the mood for.

Dean’s gone slow all this time, has let Sam build him up until his muscles are tight and his breath is coming in quick bursts, and now all he wants is to make Sam come, to taste the sweat rolling down his neck as he falls apart because of Dean. _For_ Dean.

Dean uses his hips to nudge Sam’s legs apart, and Sam just falls open for him, wrapping his legs around Dean and fisting his fingers in Dean’s hair, tugging sharply. Dean’s tongue slides over Sam’s lips, pushing inside Sam’s mouth where it belongs, to taste and feel every bit of him. Their hips move naturally as they kiss, rolling and grinding, shifting around until they find just the right angle, that angle where their cocks slot right up against each other perfectly, every inch of one covered by every inch of the other.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean grunts, shoving his face in Sam’s hair, breathing in his shampoo. Sam answers with another wordless whimper, so greedy and strung out that it bleeds over into Dean, makes Dean feel a little high.

Sam grabs at Dean’s shoulders, pulling him closer, hips snapping hard, rutting into Dean with abandon, not caring how loud he is. Dean silences him with a kiss, drinking down the muffled groan as he pushes harder, faster.

Now they are horny teenagers, clumsily clawing and grabbing at each other, acting like they’ve never done this before, like they don’t share a bed, like they haven’t tied each other up for hours and pulled the other apart piece by piece, like they haven’t taken their time fucking into each other for as long as they could stand it. Now, for whatever reason, it all feels new and desperate and they both have to have it right fucking now or the world is surely going to end.

Dean sucks Sam’s tongue into his mouth hard and thrusts his hips harder, digs his hands into the meat of Sam’s lower back and pulls so that there’s no space between them at all. With a loud cry, Sam comes in his boxer-briefs, his cock jumping against Dean’s his whole body going rigid, then relaxing as the tension leaves him. Dean can feel the warm wetness seeping through Sam’s underwear through his own, and it only takes one more thrust before he’s coming too, staring into Sam’s hazel eyes, losing himself there because that’s the only place he ever wants to be.

It takes a minute for Dean to come back to his senses. It’s too good to pull away, too warm to leave the tangle of Sam’s arms and legs. Absently, Dean licks out over Sam’s neck to taste the salt there, and Sam shivers in his arms, tightening his legs around Dean’s hips.

“We need to clean up before someone else tries to come in,” Sam murmurs, not actually moving except to turn his head and find Dean’s mouth with his own. The kiss is long and sweet and perfect, and suddenly all Dean can think about is getting back to their room, the one with a real lock on the door and a king sized bed waiting for them.

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s just…” Dean steps back and takes off his ruined boxers, throws them in the washer that’s probably already half done with its cycle. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting Sam’s underwear in there too, throwing on sweatpants and t-shirts from the pile of clean clothing, and getting back to their room.

“The laundry isn’t done,” Sam says, smiling at the hurried way Dean is collecting the clean clothes in the laundry baskets, ready to go.

“No one’s gonna bother it. We’ll come back.”

“You got plans or something?” Sam teases.

Dean lets go of the basket and moves over to Sam, pulling him into his arms, sliding his hands down underneath the hem of Sam’s sweatpants to squeeze his bare ass, to press two fingers against Sam’s hole until Sam gasps in his ear.

“Yeah. I got big plans.”


	15. Teasing- Megstiel (Meg x Cas)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: restraints, rimming, edging, orgasm delay

Cas is angry.

But that’s not exactly right, is it? Anger would mean that he wants Meg to stop, that he’s uncomfortable with what she’s doing. Anger would mean that he isn’t enjoying it, and that she’s doing something wrong.

And Cas _loves_ what she’s doing.

It’s a very strange feeling to be so frustrated, yet crave that frustration. To _enjoy_ it. Cas has never felt anything like it before. And even as he begs and pleads and snarls and growls, he doesn’t want her to stop. He never even comes close to asking her to.

Meg grins as her lips graze up his thigh again, biting into the muscle there and stopping just short of breaking the skin. Cas moans and pushes his body down the bed as much as he can with his hands tied to the headboard.

 _If only he could get her mouth on his erection._ He has the thought because it’s a physical instinct, but he doesn’t really mean it. He wants the game to continue. He wants to _want_.

She drags her tongue up to the crease of his thigh, over his hipbone, up to suck right underneath his navel, totally ignoring how his cock twitches and leaks when she gets close.

It’s torture. Cas’ hands clench around the ropes holding his arms still, squeezes until the rope burns and stings against his skin. The sharp pain takes some of the pressure away from his erection, and he breathes a little easier.

“There you go,” Meg breathes against his skin, her nails scraping over each rib as she scratches up his sides. “You’re learning.”

She attacks his nipples then, biting and sucking until they’re both raw and red, making sure that she doesn’t touch him anywhere else, that when he arches his back or shifts his legs, he gets no friction from rubbing against her warm skin.

Again, a wave of hot anger runs through Cas, and again, it isn’t really anger. As soon as it registers, it fades from anger to pure need, to some strange desire for her to keep going.

Meg seems to know exactly what he’s thinking and feeling. Cas randomly thinks that she probably does, that this probably isn’t her first time doing exactly this.

A possessive pride settles in his chest when he considers that even though he isn’t the first, he’s probably her first angel.

“Can I come now?” he asks, because he wants to come, because it would feel amazing, because it would relieve the tension he’s feeling. But he hopes she says no.

To his pleasure, she doesn’t say anything at all. She just raises her head long enough to glare at him, then dips her head back down and bites even harder.

Not only is Meg a master of this kind of torture, she’s impatient. She can’t stay in one place too long before she seems to get bored. Or maybe she’s just trying to overwhelm his senses, make his entire body so sensitive that it doesn’t matter what she does, where she touches him, how soft or gentle her movements are- it will still make his toes curl, his jaw clench, his lungs fill with air so he can scream.

Once she’s satisfied that his nipples are completely wrecked, she pushes his legs apart and gets between them.

“All the times we’ve done this, and I’ve never eaten your ass. That seems like a real shame.”

“Then do it,” he groans, spreading his legs wider, wondering when he became so demanding, so crass as to offer his asshole to someone.

Her tongue starts on his balls, and that makes him jump, makes liquid fire run through his veins instead of blood. She quickly licks her way down, circling and teasing his rim while he sweats and shakes, little whimpers the only sound he can form now.

Cas still wants her on his cock, wants her mouth or her pussy to slide up and down on it until he comes. But not really. What he really wants is to stay right here and wish for it. To be desperate for it.

He still doesn’t understand, but for once he doesn’t need to. Meg understands and that’s enough for him, somehow.

Her tongue finally flattens and drags over his hole, wet and rough and _ohhh that’s so fucking good_. Cas jumps, then instantly pushes back down, against her mouth, wanting more. Meg thrusts her tongue then, pushing in a little, opening him up just a tiny bit, just enough for him to feel the stretch of it.

His cock jumps, clear precome blurting out all over his stomach.

“I knew you’d love this,” she tells him. “You want me to use my fingers?”

“Yes,” he shouts. “Please…”

“Get them wet.” She leans up, just moves away from him and leaves him there rolling hips against nothing, and holds two fingers close to his mouth.

Cas hungrily leans forward and sucks at them, wet and messy until there’s spit on his chin and her fingers are dripping. She smiles, reaches down between his legs again. Cas lets his head fall back and stares at the ceiling, wishing his hands were free to grab her hair, but still glad they aren’t, satisfied that he can’t have what he wants.

The first touch of her fingers makes him more desperate than he’s ever been. She barely slides in, not even to the first knuckle yet, just enough for his eyes to widen.

And then she pulls away.

“I probably shouldn’t do that,” she smirks. “It might make you come. And we can’t have that now, can we?”

Again, there’s that anger, that absolute fury that isn’t really anything other than _please give me more_.

Meg refuses to give him what he now wants more than anything, but Cas all but forgets that when she slithers up to straddle him, sinking her wet pussy down on his cock like it’s meant to be inside her.

Cas grits his teeth and bends his knees, digging his heels into the bed to brace himself. He knows this part well.

Meg does what she always does, the thing Cas loves the most.

She rides him.

It sounds so simple, and it’s something that millions, _billions_ of people do all the time. But Cas knows, without any other experience and without a shadow of a doubt, that no one does it like Meg.

She writhes, rocks, bounces, thrusts, grinds, so fast and so hard that she leaves bruises on his skin where their bodies smack together. She tosses her hair, she rubs her clit, she makes him rub her clit, she sits still and clenches herself around him. She moans and screams and says all kinds of filthy things.

And she never lets Cas come. She has four or five orgasms of her own, Cas loses count of how many times he feels the tremors, of how many times she closes her eyes and lets out that low, satisfied sound. But _he_ can’t. Not until she’s finished.

Cas will never, ever get tired of watching her.

Eventually, she’ll tell him to come, and he’ll practically black out from the sheer intensity of it.

Cas waits for the signs that she’s getting close to giving in, but they don’t come this time.

Instead, when she seems to tire of riding his cock, she slides up his body and sits right down on his face, practically smothering him.

“I think I want to come this way now,” she says, voice full of that soft lilt that sounds more dangerous than any other tone.

Cas can’t speak with her pussy smashed on his face, but he does manage to let out a groan that’s an unmistakable _what about me?_

Meg laughs a little. “I don’t know that I have time to get to your orgasm today. But when I’m done coming on your face, I can leave you tied up here and come back tomorrow morning.”


	16. Opposite sex (change who gives and who receives)- Wincest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: top!Sam, anal sex

Sam woke up with Dean’s hand shoving its way into his boxer-briefs. By the time he fully registered what was going on, Dean’s fingers were wrapped around his cock, already swelling, always hard for Dean.

Sam grunted a sleepy, almost irritated noise even as he thrust his hips into Dean, seeking more of Dean’s touch. “Didn’t you get enough last night?” he groaned, the sentence ending on a gasp as Dean squeezed at his erection.

“Never get enough of you,” Dean mumbled, biting at Sam’s neck.

Sam basked in those words, let them wash over him like summer rain, like them move from Dean’s mouth into his own like sweet honey when Dean leaned down to kiss him. _Never get enough_. Sam definitely understood that.

He kissed back, fingers digging into Dean’s waist to pull him on top, to get him between Sam’s legs where he belonged, but Dean resisted.

“Need you to fuck me, Sammy,” Dean whispered against his ear, tongue flicking out to trace the shell of it.

Sam shivered, cock jumping against Dean’s body in anticipation.

“What?” Sam had heard him the first time. He only wanted to hear Dean say the rare words once more, and they both knew it.

“Need you to fuck _me_ ,” Dean said again, growling a little this time. “Need that big cock inside me, Sammy, want you to make me sore with it.”

Sam groaned, already rolling so that Dean was on his back, so that Sam could stretch his long body out and feel every inch of Dean’s hot skin beneath him. This particular mood didn’t come over Dean very often. Sam was genuinely happy to be the “bottom” in the relationship, to be the one who got to feel full, got to feel stretched open by the other, got to be the one to toss his head back, close his eyes, and let Dean take over. But every now and then, Dean would decide he was in the mood to be fucked hard and good, and Sam was always more than happy to oblige. More than happy to do anything Dean wanted.

Especially when Dean talked like that.

Sam shoved his underwear off hastily, pushed Dean’s legs apart so he could settle his hips against the soft skin of Dean’s inner thighs, could slot their dicks right up against each other.

“That’s it,” Dean urged, “fucking do it, Sam. Make me feel it.”

“Like this?” Sam’s fingers dug into Dean’s waist as he pulled him closer, rutted against him. He squeezed hard enough to bruise, hard enough that he’d be able to see where he’d been tomorrow.

“God, yes,” Dean groaned, eyes falling shut. “Need you.”

Sam leaned up enough to get his hand between them, to stroke Dean, as hard and fast as he knew Dean wanted it. Dean arched, planted his feet on the bed and pushed himself up, sloppily humping into Sam’s hand, seeking more contact.

“C’mon,” he all but whined, “fuck me. _Now_.”

Sam smirked. “Impatient.” Dean nodded his agreement, reaching around to grab Sam’s ass, pull him in, slide their bodies together. Sam’s smile widened, a sweet feeling in his chest the perfect contrast to the pleasure pulsing through his dick.

It took a second for Sam to recall whose room they were in. They probably should just start using one room, but they both liked having their own designated space, even though they never slept alone anymore. Last night, they had fallen asleep in Dean’s bed after a hot shower and an even hotter fuck that got them sweaty and dirty all over again. Which meant that the lube was to the right, in the drawer of Dean’s bedside table. Sam reached for it only to have Dean grab his hand, pull it to his mouth, and suck on two fingers like he was sucking Sam’s cock.

“You don’t need it,” Dean mumbled around Sam’s fingers, knowing what he was reaching for. “I, uh…I’m ready.”

Sam let his free hand wander down, trailing over Dean’s cock, past his balls, down to his hole. He sucked in a breath when he found Dean open and ready, slick with lube.

“Looks like you had some fun without me,” Sam murmured, sliding two fingers into Dean easily.

“Didn’t want to wait, just wanted you inside me,” Dean said, pushing down onto Sam’s fingers greedily, like they weren’t enough. “ _Come on, Sam_.”

Sam was achingly hard, not particularly in the mood to wait either. “I think you should wake me up like this more often,” he teased, laughing when Dean managed to come out of his lust-haze long enough to roll his eyes.

And then Sam was sliding his cock against Dean’s ass, pushing into him with one deep thrust. They groaned in unison, almost a harmony, reveling in the feel of each other. Sam let his head fall, forehead bumping into Dean’s, then resting there. “Oh my God, Dean…you feel…I can’t…” Sam wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to the tight heat around his cock, wasn’t used to seeing Dean with his parted lips and clinging hands, wasn’t used to feeling Dean spread out and submissive beneath him. It was too much.

“Fuck, Sam,” Dean moaned, sounding just as wrecked. “Please…you gotta move. Make me feel it.”

The desperation in Dean’s voice snapped Sam out his own mind and back into the bed with Dean. “You want to feel it?” he asked, pulling his hips back, sliding almost completely out of Dean before slamming back in so hard that the sound of their crashing hips practically echoed off the walls.

Dean cried out, hands flying above his head to slap the headboard, to brace himself against something.

“You feel that?” Sam asked, breathless now with how fucking good Dean felt.

“God, yes, Sam. Again.”

Sam thrust again, only once, as hard and deep as he could. Shit, Dean was perfect, his legs wrapped around Sam like vines, his hands still on the headboard, pushing against it to move himself down on Sam, to keep Sam buried as deep inside of him as he could.

Sam couldn’t help himself then. He fucked into Dean with total abandon, hips snapping, balls smacking against Dean with each movement, pushing Dean up the bed until his head was close to his hands, almost hitting the headboard. Sam didn’t care if he gave Dean a concussion. They were both going to have a hell of an orgasm first.

Dean didn’t beg anymore, just made wordless, broken sounds that were hotter than any words he could have come up with. Sam’s thrusts eventually became less forceful, more intentional, deeper. He angled his hips until he found Dean’s prostate, then fell down on top of him, sliding his tongue into Dean’s mouth. He ground their bodies together, rolling his hips, pressing his cock against the most sensitive spot in Dean’s body until he felt the sweat pouring from Dean’s skin, until he felt Dean’s muscles tense and tighten.

Dean let his legs fall open and took it, took every inch of Sam like he was starving for it. It was all Sam could do to hold on, to give Dean what he wanted. The smell of Dean was making Sam high, and if Dean squeezed around him one more time, he was going to lose the little control he had left. He pushed himself up, dug his knees into the bed for leverage and went impossibly deeper, wrapping a hand around Dean’s cock. Dean’s mouth fell open, but there was no sound this time, just a silent gasp that told Sam he was on the edge.

“Come for me, Dean. Show me how good it feels when I fuck you.”

He stroked Dean with the same steady rhythm he used to fuck him, and Dean came obediently, hard and straining, all over Sam’s hand. Sam watched as Dean’s cock pulsed and throbbed, gave one more thrust and came with him. Dean clenched down, pushing Sam’s orgasm to the next level, until it was almost too good, almost overwhelming.

Sam collapsed on top of Dean, felt Dean’s cock twitch weakly, trapped between their bodies. His own cock gave an answering jump as one last orgasmic shudder coursed through him.

“Tryin’ to kill me, Sammy,” Dean panted, hands now digging into the meat of Sam’s back as he held him close.

“You asked for it,” Sam reminded him, sucking at his earlobe lazily before licking his way down his jaw to his mouth. They kissed until they were breathless.

“I guess I did,” Dean agreed.

Sam gently pulled away, stretched an arm down to the floor where he’d thrown his t-shirt earlier that night, and quickly cleaned up their mess, tossing the shirt back to the floor to be dealt with later. Dean opened his arms, and Sam snuggled down into them, head on Dean’s chest so he could hear his heartbeat, listen to the steady beat as it calmed down.

“What was that?” Sam smiled into Dean’s skin. “Not that I mind, but I wasn’t exactly expecting that kind of wake up call.”

Dean shrugged, voice already thick with sleep when he answered. “Dunno. Just wanted you.”

Sam’s heart swelled in his chest, and he curled tighter around Dean, like a cat who’d found a warm, sunlit patch of soft grass. Dean’s gentle snores lulled him back to sleep, exhausted and content.


End file.
